


sidewalk sundae strawberry surprise

by forochel



Series: support your local library!! [1]
Category: GOT7, JJ Project
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Banter, First Dates, Flirting, Fluff, Getting Together, Librarian Park Jinyoung | Jr., M/M, Musician Im Jaebum | JB
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 14:00:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18812344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forochel/pseuds/forochel
Summary: Jinyoung looks up, customer service smile on his face and “dear god why me” in his heart, when heat rushes abruptly into his ears and the practised “I can help you find those scores, just give me a second” rushes abruptly out of his head.Because Annoying Music Brat #n has (a) an armful of scores; (b) the company of one Im fucking Jaebum, with whom Jinyoung has been conducting an increasingly ungentle flirtation over the course of theentire fucking year.





	sidewalk sundae strawberry surprise

**Author's Note:**

> how the fuck is this almost 7k i just wanted to make library jokes. also: if the unknown poet behind beowulf (trans. seamus heaney) could start with ‘so’, i can too. Hwaet!

So, Jinyoung usually quite enjoys working the reference desk in the Fine Arts Library, even if he much prefers the programming work he does with the Children’s Services team down at the district library. He gets paid more here, it’s usually pretty quiet because of the performance focus of the university’s Fine Arts programmes, and when he does get research questions they’re pretty interesting.

On the other hand, he sometimes also gets patrons like this girl who looks like a very young eighteen, asking for scores so she can compete in some festival or other, and who clearly think that library staff are there because they can’t get other jobs. 

“It’s the lieder,” she says, leaning over the counter, tapping the printed title on her photocopied sheet music. Jinyoung jerks back — _personal space, little girl_ , he wants to say. “It’s German for ‘song’.” 

S.R. Ranganathan save us all from fucking patronising patrons, Jinyoung thinks very loudly to himself, before deepening his smile even as he feels his eyes go dead. “Yes it is,” Jinyoung says, clicking the search facet for scores, hitting enter, and praying for the campus network to do him a solid for once. “Well done.” 

She blinks at him, eyebrows furrowing, before settling back away from him, mouth opening.

The results page loads before she can say anything, though, and Jinyoung privately promises a blood sacrifice to Ex Libris even as he’s cheerfully pointing out likely looking results to her.

An excruciating five minutes and three other random pieces later, the girl — whose name he never got — is sent off with a memo card filled with call numbers in Jinyoung’s most precise handwriting and instructions to come back for help looking for scores if she needs it.

“Hyung,” laughs Yugyeom, who’s been busy not doing his job at the circulation desk and spectating instead. “She’s probably not going to come back even she needs help. Your eyes were like, murder level eight point seven.” 

Jinyoung breathes in, and lets it out slowly, counting to eight. “Yugyeom-ah, if one more uppity music undergrad thinks they’re the only person on earth who knows _basic musical terms_ —”

He cuts himself off because Yugyeom’s descended into a fit of giggles, which is — as with most things Yugyeom-related — simultaneously adorable and infuriating. 

“It’s just,” Yugyeom gets out in between hiccuping laughs. “How did you even _get this job_ , hyungie? You hate anyone over the age of seven; you want to be a children’s librarian!” 

Jinyoung throws a crumpled up old catalogue card at Yugyeom. No one’s looking; it’s fine. “I don’t _hate_ — I interview well — and anyway, I have two jobs, you brat. Which you know, since they’re helping feed that bottomless pit you call a stomach.” 

“I’m a growing boy!” Yugyeom protests, patting his belly. “And — oh, hello,” he turns back to the boy striding up to the desk, looking mildly agitated.

Printer problems again, Jinyoung bets. During midterms? It’s amazing riots haven’t broken out across campus. 

He leaves Yugyeom to it. The printer whisperer, Jinyoung is not. To be fair, the cataloguing and classification whisperer Jinyoung is also not, but at least he’s mildly more prepared to enrich the MARC records of their artist ephemera than to figure out why the printer downstairs has charged its latest victim double for a blank printout.

*****

So engrossed is Jinyoung in squinting at what he thinks is an exhibition brochure, though who knew, really, with art, that Yugyeom’s “oh- _ho_ ” only penetrates the second time round.

“What?” Jinyoung snaps. He’d almost managed to figure out which was the artist collective’s name and which was the name of the exhibition. Or un-exhibition. _Post-modernism_.

“She’s back,” Yugyeom says, sing-song and gleeful. “And she’s not alone~” 

Jinyoung looks up, customer service smile on his face and “dear god why me” in his heart, when heat rushes abruptly into his ears and the practised “I can help you find those scores, just give me a second” rushes abruptly out of his head. 

Because Annoying Music Brat #n has (a) an armful of scores; (b) the company of one Im fucking Jaebum, with whom Jinyoung has been conducting an increasingly ungentle flirtation over the course of the _entire fucking year_. 

This ... explains a lot. Jaebum’s a friendly, _oblivious_ straight with questionable taste. It’s okay. Everyone makes mistakes. Jinyoung will learn to love himself, someday. 

But maybe not today, because he can feel his icy irritation melt under the sheepishness of the grin that Jaebum is directing at him.

“Hi, Jinyoungie,” he says, already leaning that customary forearm on the countertop and making Jinyoung want to lean into his voice, soak in the way the recently adopted diminutive sounds in his mouth. “Sorry about this, but —”

“ _Oppa_ ,” says Jinyoung’s Least Favourite Patron Ever impatiently. “Flirt later, scores now.”

Jinyoung blinks, even as Jaebum goes a very fetching shade of pink. 

“Ah,” Jaebum coughs. “Um.”

Distantly, Jinyoung can hear Yugyeom cackling into the lost and found cabinet. 

“This, uh,” Jaebum says, stumbling a bit over his words. “My cousin. She has a recital coming up and needs these scores for the judging.”

“Yes,” Jinyoung says, thawing even further. He’s too cute, with that slant to his eyebrows and the shadow of his downcast eyelashes on his cheekbones and the drawl blurring his consonants. “And she’s found them, I see.” And because Jinyoung actually, you know, wants to go on a date with Jaebum sometime this century, he begrudgingly crinkles a smile in Possibly Not Least Favourite Patron’s direction. “Well done.” 

“Uh, yeah,” Jaebum says, eyes flicking up to meet Jinyoung’s. “I helped Nayeon. Those call numbers, right?”

Jinyoung vividly remembers teaching Jaebum how to navigate the shelf classification system they use in the Fine Arts library, a modification on the one typically used in Korea’s public libraries to account for the specialised collections. Making out in the stacks had always seemed gauche to him, up ‘til the point he was leading Jaebum down into secluded shelving in the back of the underground level where they stored the oversized materials. 

“I’m glad you remember,” Jinyoung tells him warmly. 

Half a step behind Jaebum, Nayeon huffs impatiently. 

“Right!” Jaebum straightens up. “Uh, so the thing is, Nayeon isn’t a student here ... we were going to use my account? Is that okay?” 

Jinyoung blinks at him. “I don’t see why not.” He turns to Yugyeom, who’s miraculously managed to collect himself. “No reason to say no, right?”

Shrugging, Yugyeom gestures Nayeon over. “Jaebum-sshi will probably have to pay thousands in replacement costs if Nayeon-sshi loses the scores, but that’s a family matter.”

“I won’t _lose_ them!” Nayeon protests, taking the student card that Jaebum holds out to her. “I’m not an _amateur_.”

Jinyong heroically refrains from pointing out that she very much categorically is one. 

From the laughing crescents that Jaebum’s eyes have creased themselves into, they probably are thinking the same thing. 

Which reminds Jinyoung — “So, Im Jaebum-sshi,” he murmurs, low enough to make Jaebum lean in further. He probably shouldn’t be doing this at the desk, whilst at work, but really — his personal happiness is at stake here. “Flirting, hmm?” 

Jaebum’s mouth drops a little, eyes shocked wide. “Um! Ah! I mean ...” 

And Jinyoung seriously can’t help it; he claps a hand to his mouth as he starts giggling, that effervescent high of teasing someone he really likes bubbling out and over. 

“I’m going to kill Nayeon,” Jaebum mutters to himself. 

“Oh no,” Jinyoung says, reaching out impulsively with his other hand to lay it on Jaebum’s forearm. They both startle a bit at the skin contact, but Jinyoung pushes on. “Don’t, hyung, or you’ll be in jail and never get to take me out on a date.” 

After a bit of rapid blinking, Jaebum fucking _lights up_. And this is one of Jinyoung’s favourite things about him — what made Jinyoung really take notice, after the initial shock of physical attraction. Because he plays along beautifully whenever Jinyoung wants him to. 

“Oh no,” Jaebum says, smiling so hard Jinyoung kind of wants to throw all semblance of professionalism out of the fake-old-European windows and haul him across the counter for a good, hard kiss. “I suppose I’ll have to hold off on the fratricide, then.”

“Is it fratricide if she’s your cousin?” Jinyoung wonders.

Because Jaebum is a smooth motherfucker when he isn’t stumbling over his words, he’s managed to slide his forearm out from under Jinyoung’s hand to interlace their fingers as he says, “I don’t know, sounds like a research question to me.” 

“Oh.” Jinyoung knows he’s smiling so hard his laugh lines are out in full force. “Sweet talk me more, why don’t you.”

“You guys,” Nayeon says, shaking her bag of scores, “are so weird.” 

Jaebum turns to her, still grinning, but with a distinctly different quality to it as he says, “You’ll understand when you grow up, Nayeonie.” 

It’s probably because he’s high on endorphins, but Jinyoung barely manages to restrain another fit of giggles. 

Sighing heavily, Jaebum look at Jinyoung. “Sorry, but I have to get Nayeon home safe.”

The girl immediately starts protesting — she’s sixteen, practically a grown up, she knows how to take public transport, just stay and flirt, oppa, _ugh_ — 

“I promised her mum,” Jaebum says, ignoring her, and squeezes Jinyoung’s hand. 

Jinyoung smiles at him. He hasn’t actually stopped smiling in the past ten minutes. “That’s okay. I can wait.” He’s waited a whole bloody year, after all. “Can’t trust those undergrad boys, anyway.”

It’s kind of adorable how Jaebum’s face immediately darkens, even as Nayeon audibly groans and rolls her eyes. 

“Yeah,” says Jaebum. “Uh, your shift ends in an hour, right?” 

“An hour and a half?” Jinyoung cocks his head, uncertain but ... hopeful. And also charmed, if not entirely unsurprised, that Jaebum has his work schedule kind of memorised. 

“Right.” Jaebum nods to himself firmly. “Okay. Are you ... free after that? Celebrate me not being incarcerated for killing my cousin?” 

The huff of laughter escapes Jinyoung entirely without permission, and he blindly retrieves a memo card to scribble his number down onto. “Yes,” Jinyoung says, boldly reaching over to tuck the card into Jaebum’s hoodie pocket. “And yes. Text me if anything comes up.” 

“I will,” Jaebum says, patting his pocket like he can’t believe what Jinyoung just did. “I mean — nothing will come up! But I’ll text you. Um. Regardless.” 

And with one last squeeze to Jinyoung’s hand and dazzling smile, he’s off with grumbling teenager in his wake, leaving Jinyoung trapped behind the desk with Yugyeom’s tender, teasing mercies.

*****

Jaebum turns up ten minutes early, and spends it lounging against the reference desk and distracting Jinyoung from his very important work in improving discovery and access to their artist ephemera collection.

He says as much to Jaebum, who blinks slowly at him before starting to smile a newly discovered shit-eating grin that makes Jinyoung want to simultaneously hit him and kiss him. 

“I distract you, huh?” Jaebum asks happily.

“You’re distracting _all of us_ ,” Yugyeom says from his perch at the circulation desk, trying to process someone’s late fines, before hastily adding, “Hyung.” 

And it’s honestly a sign of how inevitable this afternoon was, really, that Yugyeom’s seen Jaebum come by the reference desk so often — that _Jaebum_ ’s come by so consistently with questions running the gamut from ridiculously _stupid_ to interestingly complex that he’s seen Yugyeom enough times to grant him the use of ‘hyung’. 

Giving up, Jinyoung makes a note for his future self, and starts going about closing the reference desk. 

“Oh!” Jaebum says. “Are you done already?” 

“Unless someone has a very important, last minute research paper they need help with ...” Jinyoung puts out the sign with the reference desk hours and help email on it. “Yes.” And then he has to physically turn away to put the artist files in their box and also escape the power of Jaebum’s smile.

“What do you feel like eating, then?” Jaebum asks.

Squatting to stow the box of files away under the shelf of citation guides behind the reference desk, Jinyoung hums and says, “I don’t know, whatever you like, hyung.” 

Jaebum’s face, when Jinyoung stands back up and turns around to start slipping into his coat, is a little slack and — when Jinyoung's eyes curiously meet his gaze, radiates embarrassment. 

Ah. Jinyoung smirks a little bit to himself. 

“There’s a Japanese Western place just off campus that I like,” he says, letting himself out of the service area and coming up by Jaebum’s side. This close, without a counter in between them, he can smell the faint whiff of something dark and woodsy, something he wouldn’t mind burying his nose in.

Like a reflex, Jaebum takes his hand and Jinyoung beams at him. 

“Sounds good,” says Jaebum, smiling back, and tugging Jinyoung closer into himself as they set off for the exit. 

“Yeah,” hums Jinyoung, and lets his smile tilt a little bit into teasing. “They’ve got a peach parfait I really like.” 

Jaebum chokes a little at that, his hand flexing around Jinyoung’s.

“Jinyoung,” he hisses, scandalised. 

“It’s got a really good mix of textures, you know?” Jinyoung continues, because the imp of mischief has taken control and he really enjoys flustering Jaebum. “I don’t know how they get such firm peaches all year round, but they’re always so sweet and then the soft serve is so nice and creamy and smooth and —”

Jaebum literally puts a hand over his mouth. It’s ... very warm. His fingers, which Jinyoung has been admiring from afar, are callused and thick and curl over the edge of Jinyoung’s jaw. It takes all of Jinyoung’s considerable self-restraint _not_ to lick. 

He _does_ press into it a bit, though, turn his face a little so Jaebum’s cupping more the curve of his cheek and he can smirk a little up at Jaebum, who swallows visibly.

It’s a good thing they reach the exit then, because they’re pushing through the doors and Jinyoung can pull away and really laugh into the cool spring air. 

“Yah,” Jaebum protests, shaking their clasped hands. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

Jinyoung blinks at him innocently. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, hyung. It’s just really good dessert.” 

“ _Dessert_ ,” Jaebum parrots disbelievingly, before barking out a short laugh and tugging Jinyoung away from where the buses usually stop. “If you say so. Come on, Jinyoungie. My car’s this way.”

*****

“I’ve never been here before,” Jaebum says, as they settle into their booth. “I usually cook at home or eat at street stalls.”

“You cook?” Jinyoung cooks for survival, but it sounds a little bit like Jaebum actually can cook. 

“Ah, well,” Jaebum ruffles his hair nervously. “I mean, I don’t know how to make lots of things, but I do a mean kimchi jjigae. And doenjang jjigae. I like Korean food.” 

“Oh!” Jinyoung straightens up and peers at the extremely non-Korean menu. “Sorry, hyung, we could’ve gone —”

“No, no,” Jaebum interrupts hastily. “I asked you what you wanted. I don’t mind. Trying new things is good, right?” 

“Right,” Jinyoung agrees slowly. He wonders if this means Jaebum’s never dated another man before. “It is. Do you want to share anything?” 

They end up deciding to split spinach sauteed in lemon and apparently enough garlic to kill a vampire, because Jinyoung believes in nutrition and the restaurant owners believe in warding off the undead. At least according to their extremely sardonic server. There’s just something about his eyebrows, one of which has a pale scar slashed through it at a jaunty angle. 

“No dessert?” asks their server, and Jinyoung has to hide his smile behind his hand when Jaebum opens and closes his mouth wordlessly, looking for all the world like a very handsome goldfish.

“Maybe if we aren’t too full later,” Jinyoung says. “We’ll keep a menu, thank you.”

“Thanks,” Jaebum says drily, folding his arms on top of the table after the server leaves. “For ruining dessert for me forever.”

“Ruin’s a harsh word,” pouts Jinyoung. “That’s really hurtful, hyung.” 

Jaebum twitches visibly. Jinyoung’s about to start worrying when he gets this look on his face that Jinyoung doesn’t remember seeing before; it’s a little more focussed, sharper, _dangerous_. It makes Jinyoung want to squirm a bit where he’s sitting. 

“When you pout,” Jaebum says, voice dipping honey-sweet and so low that Jinyoung feels it in his gut, “it’s dangerous.” 

It feels a little like he’s playing with fire but Jinyoung can’t help but lean into the thrill of it, pout harder. “I’m completely harmless, hyung. A harmless bunny.” 

The look in Jaebum’s eyes intensifies and he actually unfolds an arm to start reaching out. Jinyoung holds his breath, thrumming with anticipation. 

And then the moment breaks, Jaebum’s gaze softening along with the lines of his face. “Your ears are definitely big enough,” he says, smiling, tugging playfully at one.

Jinyoung feels his lips part in surprise, before indignation sweeps a hot flush through him and he jerks his head away. “Jaebum-hyung!”

The heat stays in his cheeks, just transmuting a little as Jaebum’s fingers trail down his neck before he takes his hand back. 

“You called yourself a bunny,” he points out, unrepentant and a little mean. Jinyoung wonders if tearing up would — but no, there’s teasing, and then there’s being too manipulative. 

“I mean it in a cute way! Like, look at me, I’m fluffy and cute!” 

Jaebum laughs. “They’re cute. These two things aren’t mutually exclusive.”

Jinyoung is saved by responding by the speedy arrival of their spinach, which sits in a steaming, garlicky pile between them. 

“Well,” he says, realisation hitting him. “This isn’t really a date food, is it?” 

“I don’t know,” says Jaebum, scooping some of it onto Jinyoung’s sharing plate before he serves himself. “We’re on a date, and we’re eating this food. So that seems like date food to me.” 

The pleased little smile on his face when he peers back up at Jinyoung is just — well. Jinyoung is officially putting the weird feeling under his ribs on hold for later consideration. 

“Okay,” he says, and takes a bite, before swallowing hastily and looking up, eyes already narrowing. “Don’t you dare make the joke.”

Jaebum stares blankly at him, spoonful of spinach halfway to his mouth. “What joke?”

“Oh,” says Jinyoung impatiently, unwilling to just ... walk into it. “You know.”

“I really don’t know.” 

Jinyoung stares back at him. “Okay. There’s no joke. Never mind. Tell me about your final project. How’s that going?” 

Cocking his head, Jaebum squints at him consideringly for a bit whilst chewing, before he shrugs and visibly chooses to let it go. 

Midway through his explanation of the themes and motifs tying together the little song cycle that he’s putting together, Jaebum’s eyes suddenly light up in unholy glee and he cuts himself off mid-sentence to say, “I get it!” 

“Um,” Jinyoung furrows his brows. “Get ... what?”

“The joke!” Jaebum exclaims, jabbing his spoon at the remains of their spinach. “Rabbit food. Ha!” And then he dissolves into the sort of silent laughter that has him curling over the table and Jinyoung starting to crack up with sympathy giggles, just in time for their server to arrive with their mains.

The silent judgement of their server’s subtly raised eyebrows has them both calming down and settling in to _eat_ ; Jinyoung is honestly famished and looking at the way that Jaebum is inhaling his taco rice, he is too. It’s honestly mildly fascinating, watching all that food disappear. There’s a joke to be made here, about how Jaebum can just ... unhinge his jaw like that. Jinyoung absolutely stops it in his mental tracks. 

“Okay, tell me honestly,” Jinyoung says a while later, leaning his face on one hand as he stirs his omurice absently, starting to feel full. “How many of those questions you asked me did you just make up?”

Jaebum laughs at that, eyes crinkling. “Oh man, at first? Very few of them. I’m not really into the research side of things, you know. So ... yeah. But then ... I don’t know, Jinyoungie, I don’t think you know what you look like when you’re just ... still. Or distracted.” 

Jinyoung blinks. “What?”

“I mean,” Jaebum says, biting his lip now and smiling down at his bowl of rice. “I practised at least a thousand times, you know. To ask you out. Or ask for your number. But you smile so, uh, prettily, and then I forget.”

Jinyoung puts his fork down so he can cover his smiling mouth with both hands.

“Or, well,” Jaebum continues, seemingly attempting to reheat his rice bowl with the force of his stare alone. “I’d walk up and you’d be concentrating on your computer screen, or being serious at Yugyeom, and ...” he huffs out a laugh and looks up unexpectedly, eyes dark and sincere and making Jinyoung go even shyer all over. “And then I’d feel too, um, intimidated, I guess. To try.” 

He must read _something_ off Jinyoung’s eyes, because he hurries to clarify, “I mean, not in a bad way, just ... like this, even with -- smiling -- you’re so pretty it hurts, but when you aren’t you look like ...” 

Jinyoung doesn’t get to find out _what_ he looks like to Jaebum, because Jaebum huffs out another laugh and reaches out to curl his hands over Jinyoung’s and peel them away from his face. “Don’t do that, Jinyoungie. I like seeing you smile.” 

“Ah, hyung,” Jinyoung whines, and buries his face in his glass of water instead. “You’re embarrassing.” 

“I’m sorry,” says Jaebum drily. “But I’m the one confessing to asking you about twenty times how to find things in the catalogue because I kept panicking.” 

“It was good practice,” Jinyoung tells him, fondness suffusing his veins. “And it’s not like I minded you coming by.”

*****

They do end up splitting the peach parfait in the end.

“Since,” Jaebum says, a smile lifting one corner of his mouth, “I’ve heard so extensively about it.” 

“Right,” says their server, whose nametag has finally put in an appearance. Kibum-sshi has a very expressive face that _screams_ he doesn’t want to know. “It will be with you shortly, thank you.” 

Jinyoung turns his face to the window to hide his laughter. 

“Ah!” His soft exclamation gets Jaebum to track his gaze outside. “It got dark.” 

Somehow, without either of them noticing, the sky has gone a deep velvety blue, cloud cover leaving the streets lit only by the harsh neon glare of shop signs and the intermittent white pools from streetlights. The booth is now lit only in mellow amber by the art deco lamps hanging overhead and the perennial Seoul light pollution. 

“Mmm, it’s nice, isn’t it?” Jaebum’s face looks soft, relaxed, contemplative, when Jinyoung glances at him. “Seoul at night.” 

“Not by day?” Jinyoung asks teasingly. He kind of knows what Jaebum means, though. During warmer weather, he likes walking the long way down the hill to his subway stop instead of taking the bus transfer in the evenings. 

He says as much. “--and it’s also to avoid getting squashed to death in the bus, but I like seeing how the sky changes as I walk. You know how it gets all pink, sometimes? It’s like, wow, how can such a colour exist in nature, you know?” 

“Yeah,” Jaebum says, “I know.” 

They’re in the middle of scrolling through Jaebum’s very hashtag aesthetic instagram account when their dessert arrives, and Jinyoung has to lean back away from where their heads had been very, very close together. 

“So you can sing, and produce music, and take photographs, and cook, and take care of your baby cousin ...” Jinyoung says, plunging his long spoon into the parfait cup so he can get at the layer of granola in the middle. Drawing it back up with his prize, collecting soft serve and cubed peach along the way, he flicks his gaze up at the same time to smile coyly at Jaebum. “What’s your dark secret, then, Im Jaebum-sshi?” 

He watches as Jaebum tracks the spoon to his lips, the way Jaebum's gaze sticks.

"Hey," Jinyoung says impishly, after sliding the spoon, licked clean, back out. "You have your own spoon, you know."

Jaebum's eyes widen and his lips part a little, like he's surprised to have been caught in the act.

"A-ah," he stutters, "I mean — yes." And then he hurriedly dips his spoon into the parfait, his ears tinting pink. _Adorable_.

"I asked you a question, though," Jinyoung taps the flat of his spoon against his bottom lip. "What's your dark secret?"

Jaebum stares at him — if he weren't so sharply good-looking Jinyoung would call the look gormless. As it is, Jaebum's just about barely dodged the descriptor.

"My secret?"

"The dark one," Jinyoung confirms.

Chuffing out a laugh, Jaebum hums around the enormous, prodigiously gravity-defying scoop of parfait he just stuck in his mouth. He gets the glint in his eye, that specific crinkle of his eyes that Jinyoung has over the past year come to learn presages a terrible joke with an accompanying shit-eating grin.

"Well," Jaebum drags out. "I'm Batman."

The bark of laughter takes _Jinyoung_ by surprise, and he's the one who produced it.

Jaebum looks so ridiculously pleased with himself Jinyoung can't help the fit of giggles that follow.

" _Hyung_ ," he gasps out. "That's so _stupid_."

"But you're laughing." Jaebum winks so outrageously it sets off another round of laughter

Jinyoung protests, "But now I'm laughing too much to eat."

"Ah well," Jaebum says airily, excavating a chocolate ball from the bottom of the glass. "More for me then."

Finally recovering, Jinyoung pouts at him. "I see now. This was all part of your nefarious plan."

"Yeah," Jaebum says, eyes crinkling. "My nefarious plan to eat all of your peach parfait."

Blinking, Jinyoung rapidly considers and discards the first two responses that come to mind. Instead, he says, " _This_ is your deep dark secret, isn't it? You sneaky food thief."

"It's not thieving if I'm doing it right in front of you." Jaebum waves another overloaded spoon at him. They're going to have to order another one at this rate.

"Okay, daylight robbery then." Jinyoung glances outside and corrects himself. "Nighttime robbery. You're the _opposite_ of Batman."

Jaebum laughs, head tipping back before he peers at Jinyoung. "Ah, Jinyoungie, stop that pouting. I already told you it's dangerous."

Jinyoung pouts harder, even though he has his own goddamn spoon in his own goddamn hand. "Make me."

And, well, Jinyoung honestly hadn't been expecting Jaebum to just lean over and kiss him, but he also hadn't been expecting Jaebum to shove the spoonful of parfait Jinyoung had been fake-pouting over into his mouth.

"Aaah," Jaebum says slightly belatedly, considering the ice cream's already smeared its way past Jinyoung's lips and the spoon's already clacked briefly against Jinyoung's teeth before Jinyoung had hurriedly opened his mouth.

"Hyung," Jinyoung says very seriously, after finishing that mouthful and patting his mouth clean. "You would be terrible at feeding babies."

The way Jaebum smiles at him should be decreed illegal. "Another dark secret," Jaebum agrees. "Apparently when Naeyeonie was a baby, I once accidentally left her on a chair after auntie asked me to hold her."

Jinyoung stares. "What? How baby are we talking?"

"Oh," Jaebum hums. "Very baby? She wasn't even a year old, I think."

"Oh my _god_ ," Jinyoung says, suddenly overcome with retroactive concern for a girl that he is officially stripping the title of Least Favourite Patron from.

"I don't remember this." Jaebum’s eyes are distant with recollection. "But apparently auntie gave Nayeonie to me and then I just put her down and reappeared, baby-less, in the kitchen."

"Oh, my god."

"It's okay!" Jaebum seems to have noticed the deep-seated horror in Jinyoung's eyes. "I mean, she turned out okay in the end, didn't she? Didn't fall off or anything! And I know better now. I was only, what, ten at the time?"

"I'm putting down almost-child neglecter down as another deep, dark secret."

Jaebum shrugs and smiles, skimming a bit of soft-serve absently. He sticks it in his mouth, talking around his spoon. "It's the 'almost' that's important. So, how about you?"

"Me?” Jinyoung startles. “Me, what?”

"What are _your_ deep, dark secrets?"

"I don't have any," he says immediately. "I'm pure as the driven snow."

Again — that almost-gormless look, before it dissolves into laughter. "You are _not_ ," Jaebum says, tapping the parfait glass with his spoon for emphasis. Or maybe in demonstration, who knows.

"Okay," Jinyoung says, and then frowns. He doesn't want to come across as being facetious all the time, but ... it isn’t easy, sifting through all his faults for something that won’t scare Jaebum off. “I...mmm!” He presses his lips tight together in frustration.

Jaebum cocks his head, brows drawing together a little as he looks at Jinyoung. The contemplative look on his face breaks into a smile; gently, he says, "Okay, I'll go. I have a bad temper."

"... you do?"

Jaebum laughs a little, sheepish. "I mean, I've mellowed out over the years, or so my friends tell me, but I do. Did. Still have a bit of one."

"Ah," says Jinyoung sagely. "Age. It comes for us all."

"You might not have liked me if we’d met in our early twenties," Jaebum says thoughtfully.

"Maybe," Jinyoung says, "Or maybe not. _You_ might not have liked me either. Yugyeomie says I'm mean now but I was even meaner back then. Which ... I acknowledge. My tongue can be terribly sharp."

He knows Jaebum knows this, having borne the brunt of it on visits five through ten, before Jinyoung’d realised maybe there was a reason the hot idiot kept coming back for more abuse. 

Smiling crookedly, Jaebum says, “Yeah. It’s funny in retrospect, though.” 

“I’m glad you think so.” Jinyoung takes a relieved bite of the soft serve he’d been nervously scraping off the sides of the parfait glass. 

"So, is Yugyeom your ... cousin? Little brother?" Jaebum's quizzically furrowed brows crease his forehead a little.

"He is a _canker in my side_ ," says Jinyoung automatically. "And also, no. He's a family friend."

"Ah," Jaebum says, expression clearing up. "A childhood friend."

"If we must," Jinyoung concedes. On impulse, he has to check: “But — anyway, hyung, you know I don’t think you’re stupid, right?” 

“Oh, I know,” Jaebum laughs a little, scooping up the dregs of their parfait and offering it to Jinyoung. Jinyoung waits for him to finish his sentence first, though. “You’re not the sort to suffer fools gladly, much less go on dates with them.”

And that — well, Jinyoung’s heart just decided that he’s apparently running a marathon. Feeling rather warm in the ears, he ducks forward to take the last bite of their dessert. When he pulls back off the spoon and glances up at Jaebum, a thrum of satisfaction runs through him when he sees that Jaebum’s gone a bit flushed too. 

“Dates?” Jinyoung asks. “Plural?” 

“I mean...” Jaebum catches his gaze and Jinyoung tries his desperate best to hold it. “If you want?”

“Yes,” Jinyoung says immediately, overriding his knee-jerk instinct to tease. “Yes.”

*****

There is, of course, an ensuing minor scuffle as they fight to get to the cashier to pay first, after Kibum-sshi presumably gets tired of them smiling idiotically at each other and gives them their bill while clearing their table.

“Let _me_ pay.” Jaebum slaps his credit card down on top of Jinyoung’s, using the scant breadth advantage he has to shoulder Jinyoung out of the way. “I’m your hyung.” 

“ _I_ asked you out.”

“Actually,” Jaebum says, turning away from the tall cashier who looks torn between amusement and exasperation. “You told me to ask you out.” 

“Well — _oh_!” Jinyoung cuts himself. “Oh. Well. Turn back.” 

In his distraction, the cashier had apparently taken the initiative to swipe Jaebum’s card.

“You can pay next time,” Jaebum murmurs absently, hunching over to sign the receipt. “Okay?” 

The thing is: Jinyoung really does not suffer fools gladly, and genuinely is puzzled by people reacting to things that are obvious. Or should be obvious. And yet he finds himself drawn up short, overcome by an abrupt flush of delight, heart beating a little faster at the reminder that they both want ... this.

And so he’s just standing there, staring at the matte white material of Jaebum’s coat stretching across his shoulders and trying to _process_ when Jaebum turns back around and takes him by the arm, sounding concerned as he asks, “Jinyoung?” 

“I’m fine!” God, Jinyoung much prefers it when he’s the one making other people off-balance. He starts marching towards the door; Jaebum trips a little as he pivots to follow. “Just ... yes, I’m fine.” 

The tinkling of the doorbell punctuates his blatant lie as they push out into the clear, cold night. Seoul in early spring means that a bite remains in the air. Jinyoung reaches up to tighten the scarf around his neck. He wishes he’d brought earmuffs with him.

“You’re not really upset that I paid tonight, are you?” Jaebum asks, hand having slid off Jinyoung’s arm. He’s now got his hands — his glove-less hands, Jinyoung notices abruptly — stuffed into the pockets of his jacket. 

They’re standing in a pool of light from the streetlamp right outside the cafe’s entrance, so that their breath is illuminated against the dark. 

“No!” Jinyoung reaches out a little questioningly to tuck his hand in the crook of Jaebum’s arm, and is reassured when Jaebum pulls it all the way through so that they’re arm in arm and Jinyoung’s pressed close to his side. “Not at all. I was just thinking.” 

Jaebum hums but thankfully doesn’t ask Jinyoung what he was thinking about. “It’s probably too cold to go for a stroll, huh?”

Jinyoung considers the way the tip of Jaebum’s nose has gone ruddy in the cold, and also the way he feels like his ears are going to fall off. “Yes. Way too cold.” 

“Ah,” Jaebum complains, moving them in the direction of his car. “Can spring please come faster?” 

“I miss warm weather every winter,” Jinyoung agrees. “But then summer comes and then I want to die.” 

“Please don’t,” Jaebum laughs. “I would miss you.” 

Whatever Jinyoung had planned on saying falls out of his head at that unexpected bit of sweetness. Flailing internally, he ends up saying, “ _Yah_.” 

Thankfully at this point he is saved from whatever Jaebum might say next: they reach Jaebum’s car, squeezed into a narrow space between two other cars. A miracle of parallel parking, to be honest. Jinyoung scrambles into the passenger seat as fast as he possibly can, and sighs with relief when Jaebum turns the seat heaters on, taking his gloves off and tucking his hands under himself.

“What’s your address?” Jaebum asks, thumbs at the ready on his phone. 

“Oh,” Jinyoung starts to demur, “you can just drop me off at the nearest subway —” 

“Jinyoungie,” says Jaebum patiently. “What is your address?” 

It’s not what Jinyoung usually does, to be honest, giving out his home address on first dates. Or even fifth dates. But in this case, he lets himself give in and tells Jaebum, hurrying to tack on, “But only if it isn’t out of your way, hyung. Otherwise my building isn’t far away from my bus stop, I swear.” 

Jaebum snorts, slinging an arm over the back of Jinyoung’s seat as he starts easing the car out of the lot. “As if I could in good conscience let you walk home in this cold. You looked like you were suffering just walking to the car.” 

And, well, there’s not much Jinyoung can say to that. He really hates how his ears hurt in the cold. 

“It’s a good thing libraries are climate-controlled,” Jaebum muses distractedly as they turn out onto the main road. 

Jinyoung snorts out a frankly unattractive laugh. “You think so?” 

“Aren’t they?” 

“I think control is an exaggeration in some cases,” Jinyoung says. “Or maybe just a lie.” 

Jaebum bursts out laughing. It’s kind of alarming, since they’re on a pretty busy road and Jinyoung isn’t sure he can see with how hard he’s laughing. It’s not like Jinyoung even said anything that funny. 

“I know how that feels with the recording studios. Please,” says Jaebum, smiling so broadly Jinyoung’s surprised no one else in the cars around them at the stop light is staring. “Do tell.” 

And so the many trials and tribulations of locally underfunded public libraries in the summer take them through all the way to Jinyoung’s neighbourhood, a rather convenient twenty minute car ride north-east of campus. 

“That was fast,” Jinyoung says. “It usually takes longer than that on public transit.” 

“The faster we get you home and warm,” Jaebum says, turning his brake lights on blink, “the better.” 

Jinyoung pauses in the middle of tugging his gloves back on to bury his face in his hands and scream a little into them. Oh, how the tables turn. 

“What?”Jaebum laughs a little, palming him by the back of the neck. “What have I done now?” 

Sitting back up, Jinyoung puts his hand on the door handle and announces, “Nothing. Thank you for the ride, hyung. I’m going now.”

“What?” Jaebum’s grip tightens a little, which does ... something to Jinyoung. “Just like that?” 

It’s the uncertainty in his eyes when Jinyoung turns to look properly at him that does Jinyoung in. 

“It’s really nothing wrong,” Jinyoung says as sincerely as he can, and tries out a sincere smile even as he feels his cheeks warm. “It’s just ... the things you say.” 

“The things _I_ say?” Jaebum repeats slightly incredulously. “Jinyoung-ah, you made peach parfait sound dirty in a _library_.” 

“But I meant to!” Jinyoung protests, fully aware of how ridiculous this conversation is. “You don’t even mean to ... ugh.” 

Jaebum’s laughing at him with his eyes. “You’re so cute,” he says, and it makes Jinyoung blush harder. “Can I kiss you?” 

It gets a little out of hand, Jinyoung will admit. He might’ve been thinking about this for almost a year now, but he definitely hadn’t expected himself to be half-climbing into the driver’s seat on their _first kiss_. Jaebum’s hands are definitely cupping his ass. 

“Okay,” Jinyoung gasps, leaning out of kissing range when they break apart for oxygen. “Enough.”

Jaebum gapes at him for a bit, which is fair, all things considered.

Jinyoung can’t help himself. Leaning and kissing the tip of Jaebum’s nose, he says, “This is a residential neighbourhood.”

Jaebum slides his hands away then, but not before squeezing, like he can’t quite help himself either. Laughing helplessly, he nudges Jinyoung back into his seat proper. “A residential neighbourhood.”

“Families live here. Think of the children, hyung,” Jinyoung says solemnly, thought he can feel the corner of his mouth twitch. The traitor. 

“Right, of course,” Jaebum agrees, voice trembling with laughter. “What a scandal, aspiring children’s librarian caught making out in a car.” 

Jinyoung nods, and rearranges his scarf from its make-out induced disarray. “Don’t cut my career short before it can even begin, please.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Jaebum promises, and leans across Jinyoung to open the door for him, cold air starting to stream in as the door unlatches. “Perish the thought.” 

“Good,” Jinyoung says, smile breaking through. “Text me when you get home, hyung.” 

“I’ll send you progress updates,” says Jaebum, smiling silly and wide. “Every red light.” 

Neither of them will make it to their beds tonight if Jinyoung doesn’t get out of this fucking car. He pushes the door open and swings a leg out. “Just be _careful_.”

Jaebum darts forward to press one last, warm kiss sweetly to his mouth before drawing back. “I will. Good night, Jinyoungie.” 

With some difficulty, Jinyoung tears himself out of the car, hurrying into the relative warmth of his building’s lobby. When he turns around while waiting for the lift, Jaebum’s car is still idling on the kerb. He waves in exasperation even as fondness blooms under his ribs. 

_Go home,_ he texts while the lift grinds its way to a stop on the ground floor, before tucking his phone into his pocket. 

He determinedly doesn’t check his phone until he’s clean and sleepily warm in bed with the bare minimum of harassment from Yugyeom, who’d been lurking in wait in the tiny open space that passed for a living room in between the hyeongwan and their rooms. 

A selca is what greets him when he turns his phone back over from where he’d put it face-down on his duvet: Jaebum with a cat cradled in one arm, coat and hat still on. 

_home safe_ , the caption reads. _this is nora._

He also has about 7 unread messages in the chat, which means Jaebum hadn’t listened to him at all.

Jinyoung is trying to think of the best way to scold Jaebum when another selca arrives, and he almost drops his phone on his face. This time, Jaebum’s hair is wet, plastered to his forehead, and he’s ... most probably shirtless. He’s objectively shittily lit in a bathroom; subjectively, it’s a lot. 

_I have an 8am class, hyung,_ he sends without thinking. _Please. I need to sleep._

He gets a winky face and a _sweet dreams, then, jinyoungie. see you tomorrow._

Jinyoung’s groan turns into a yawn, and he rolls over to bury his face in his pillow, blindly reaching out to slide his phone onto the bedside table. He’ll think about what to retaliate with tomorrow morning. For now, sleep is actually pulling at his limbs, and he lets it tug him under. 

   
   
 

**Author's Note:**

> if you've made it all the way to end of this ... endless bants, thank you! please support your local library. 
> 
> also wow this is the 2nd fic for which i've taken a title from tom waits's 'ice cream man'. 
> 
> lastly, thank you to verity for being a wonderful cheerleader & so receptive to me wailing at them about how 2 dudes they have 0 investment in are 250% In Love.


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